


Touch Me All You Like, Darling

by minbins



Series: A Step by Step Guide to Losing Your Innocence [3]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: College Student Minho, Coming In Pants, DO NOT REPOST MY WORKS I DO NOT CONSENT TO REPOSTING, M/M, Pillow Fucking, Praise Kink, church boy jisung, handjobs, jisung gets minho off, jisung pillow fucker, minho teaching jisung, read the other parts first, recent high school graduate jisung, set vaguely in america, tutor minho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 23:00:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22005850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minbins/pseuds/minbins
Summary: Minho is everything Jisung shouldn’t want, and yet he’s a temptation Jisung itches to succumb to. “Can I, Minho?” he asks, and the older boy’s name on his lips tingles like prayer. “...Please?”“You’re such a sweet little thing, Jisungie."
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: A Step by Step Guide to Losing Your Innocence [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557112
Comments: 44
Kudos: 1028





	Touch Me All You Like, Darling

“Minho?”

The elder sighs, as he often does when Jisung speaks when he’s supposed to be working. He has his hand in Jisung’s lap, under his blanket in case either of Jisung’s parents walk in again. Occasionally, whether it’s for motivation or so that he can enjoy Jisung’s discomfort Jisung isn’t quite sure, Minho palms over Jisung’s crotch disinterestedly. Each time, Jisung whimpers. Each time, Minho pointedly ignores him. “What is it, Jisung? I thought you were good on this topic.”

“I am good!” Jisung blurts out, and then blushes at his own eagerness. “No, I- I mean.”

“Come on, Sungie,” Minho hums. “Spit it out.” He palms him again, and this time it’s definitely cruel.

Jisung whines softly, but pushes it down in favour of speech. “Can I touch you this time?” he blurts out, so fast he wonders at first if it’ll be legible. “Only if, you know,” he looks down at his worksheet, shy, “if you want that.” 

Minho doesn’t answer, though he tenses up a little, and Jisung busies himself with the final question on his list. Minho’s hand is still in his lap, so he can’t be _too_ disgusted with his request. Maybe he just doesn’t feel the need to be touched like Jisung does. He has to admit, he’s never had the foresight to look at Minho when they’ve been in his room like this, far too preoccupied by Minho’s hands on him, Minho’s pretty lips as he tells Jisung what to do. If Minho had been aching too, Jisung had been too distracted to notice. Next time, he resolves to look. He doesn’t quite want to admit to himself how much he yearns to have _some_ effect on him.

Jisung finishes the question, passing the sheet over to Minho with shaking hands. He watches as Minho scans the paper, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They’re all correct, Jisungie,” he praises him, ruffling his hair in that demeaning sort of way that Jisung shouldn’t like but likes _so much._ He leans into the touch, sighing as Minho’s other hand rubs over him. When Jisung forces his eyes open, meeting Minho’s gaze because he knows that he’ll want him to, Minho coos. “Good boy,” he says, honey-sweet and cloying, cooing again as Jisung whimpers softly. “What is it you wanted, Sungie?”

For a moment, Jisung has forgotten entirely. He makes himself think back, remembering what he’d finally asked Minho. Minho definitely remembers too, but Jisung knows that he always likes to make Jisung repeat himself, for some reason. He indulges him (as if he could ever do anything but). “I wanna touch you,” he says, face burning. Jisung has to console himself by telling himself that the end result will be worth it. 

“Oh?” Minho says, eyebrow raised in a way that tells Jisung he still has a while yet before he’s to be rewarded. “Where do you want to touch me, sweetheart— here?” he asks, lifting Jisung’s trembling hand to cup his pretty face. Though that is _not_ what Jisung had meant, and they both know that well, Jisung revels in this unexpected treat nonetheless. Minho’s sculpted features feel nice beneath his fingers, delicate bone structure both fragile and strong somehow. His face is a little warm, too, a hidden indicator that perhaps Minho might be affected by Jisung just a little. Jisung fights the urge to whoop. 

“No, I want to touch your- I, uh, I wanna make you feel good too…”

“You’re absolutely adorable, baby,” Minho says, and somehow he manages to sound sorry for Jisung at the exact same time. “But only babies who _say_ what they want get to have it, Jisung.”

“I-” Jisung tries to say, the words catching in his throat. What was it Minho had called Jisung’s penis, again? He’d called it something vulgar the first time he’d touched him skin on skin, and Jisung had tried to forget it, as if that would make this somewhat better. A moment passes, and he remembers, lips parting a little in a silent gasp as he feels himself flush still deeper. He’s not sure he can say it out loud. But then he looks at Minho, and sees him watching Jisung expectantly. Jisung knows that Minho will give him what he wants, as long as he plays by the rules, and as bad as it feels to say it he wants him _so_ much. “Can I please touch your, y-your, uh,” he pauses, voice dropping in volume though still audible. Just. “Minho, can I please touch your cock, please?”

Somehow, Jisung is more embarrassed by the extra ‘please’ that he hadn’t meant to tack on at the end. Minho seems pleased, though, so that’s something at least. Jisung loves when Minho is pleased with him. “Well done,” he praises, rubbing once more against where Jisung strains in his trousers before pulling away. Jisung whimpers a little at the loss of Minho touching him, but he doesn’t say anything, worried it’ll take away his chance to touch Minho if he does so. Wide-eyed, Jisung watches as Minho reaches to push down against his own crotch, lamenting that the blanket is obscuring his view, especially when Minho hisses a little at the friction. He must be at least a _little_ affected by Jisung, then. “What are you waiting for, Jisungie?” Minho asks then, tilting his head in that calculated sort of way that makes Jisung feel so beautifully small. “Don’t you want to, anymore?”

“Can I... Can I just?...”

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” Minho encourages, moving away to give Jisung full access. Instead, he finds Jisung’s leg, squeezing reassuringly. It only makes Jisung needier. Tentatively, Jisung reaches out to touch Minho in turn. With the blanket still covering them in case they’re interrupted, he has to fumble a little before his hand lands on a strong thigh. Minho is crazily muscular, and Jisung remembers his mother mentioning offhandedly that his tutor is a dancer at college. Jisung can’t think about that right now, or he thinks he’ll come without Minho even trying to make him do so.

“What now?” he asks, seeking guidance for this unfamiliar situation. Jisung worries about going too far, about Minho not liking what he does and this all being taken away. Though, yes, his experiences with Minho do have an expiry date, he wants to get the most he can out of this stolen summer. Then, he’ll be off to college himself. Jisung wonders if there’ll be anyone like Minho at his Christian college. Maybe. Minho’s family are just as religious as Jisung’s, after all. Perhaps it’s even college that has made Minho so… _this._

“You want to touch me, right?”

“Yes!” Jisung sounds overly eager, so much so that it makes Minho laugh a little. He blushes, but doesn’t look away.

“Then touch.”

“Anywhere?”

“Yes, baby boy,” Minho reassures, and when Jisung hesitates still he puts his hand on top of his, urging him further up Minho’s muscular thigh and stopping just by his crotch. There, Minho moves his own hand away. This has to be Jisung’s decision, he seems to imply. “Go ahead, Sungie. Anywhere you want to.”

“O-Okay,” Jisung says, voice fluctuating between determination and nerves. He really, _really_ wants this. Perhaps it should be worrying just how much he does, but Jisung is aching too much to care. He moves his fingers up, and-

Minho is aching too. Straining against his unfairly tight jeans, hard under the soft touch of Jisung’s fingertips. He trails his hand along Minho’s zipper, eyes wide as Minho’s lower lip is pulled between a flash of pretty teeth. Minho wants this too, and the realisation of this sets in like a storm, brewing all around Jisung and muddying his senses. Something electric dances over his skin, and he shivers as he reaches the top of the zipper, where a button holds Jisung back from what feels like a whole new layer of sin. Letting Minho do _things_ to him was one thing, and one Jisung wishes he could regret (he doesn’t, not in the slightest), but… This? 

Minho is everything Jisung shouldn’t want, and yet he’s a temptation Jisung itches to succumb to. “Can I, Minho?” he asks, and the older boy’s name on his lips tingles like prayer. “...Please?”

“You’re such a sweet little thing, Jisungie,” Minho coos, cupping Jisung’s cheek. The rings on Minho’s fingers sting cold against Jisung’s flushed skin, and he gasps a little, soft and whiny. “Touch me all you like, darling— I’ll tell you if you need to stop, okay?”

Jisung’s mind takes that and runs with it, and he shivers again as he makes the executive decision to stop holding back from what he wants, because he _wants_ Minho. He can’t see it under the blanket, so he fumbles with the button for a moment until it gives, Minho’s zipper sliding down easily when Jisung tugs at it. Unlike Jisung’s cotton briefs, Minho’s underwear is silky to the touch. It feels expensive, and fitting for someone like Minho. Jisung hesitates as his hand moves to the waistband of it. 

_Touch me all you like, darling— I’ll tell you if you need to stop, okay?_

Pushing past the hesitation on the remembrance of reassurance, Jisung’s shaking hand moves past the hem, down the soft skin of Minho’s lower stomach. He waits to hit the tangle of hair that he had moved past to touch himself the night before, but it doesn’t come. Instead, there’s just more smooth skin, a hint of stubble beneath his fingertips but nothing more. Jisung’s eyes widen, and Minho can clearly tell why. It’s something Jisung had never considered until now, shaving anything but the faint hair on his upper lip, but now it’s all he can think about. “You like, Sungie?” Minho sounds amused.

“I, y-yes, I just. Wow.” Jisung can’t quite speak, which seems to be an occupational hazard when spending time with Minho Lee. “I didn’t know that people did that.”

“Not all people do, sweetheart,” Minho says, and his breathing is a little heavier. His eyes flicker down to the blanket, where Jisung is frozen just above- “But I like to, all over.” The words sound like a pointed hint, that Jisung should feel more of him, all of him. Wide eyed, trapped in the light of Minho’s gaze, Jisung inches his hand down, feels heated skin under his. Minho’s eyes darken all the while, irises near eclipsed. He looks otherworldly, terrifyingly beautiful. Jisung feels like prey, even as he wraps his hand around him. 

Minho is bigger than Jisung. He doesn’t need to look at him to know that, for he’s become far more intimately acquainted with himself as of late, and so Jisung knows how his cock feels in his own hand. It’s harder to wrap his fingers around Minho, so Jisung can tell he’s a little thicker, and when he moves along the expanse of Minho’s shaft, he feels that he’s a little longer too. It’s not a massive difference, but a little past slight. Noticeable enough that Jisung gets the strange urge to compare them, even knowing that he’ll come out a little less. Oddly, that doesn’t discourage him— he supposes that makes sense, knowing how his body feels when Minho looks at him with that soft sense of pity. 

Patient with Jisung, which the younger appreciates beyond belief, nervous enough in his inexperience, Minho makes soft noises in his throat as Jisung explores. He knows what feels good on himself, at least, so he tries them out on Minho with generally good results: more soft noises, sometimes slightly louder if Jisung does something really well, though Minho muffles those by biting his lip. Jisung thumbs over the head of Minho’s cock, through the wetness pooling there, and spreads it over the length of him to ease the slide of palm against skin. This appears to have been the right thing to do, for Minho groans, head falling back a little. “Okay?” Jisung checks, needy for reassurance.

Minho’s lower lip floods with colour as he releases it from between his teeth, swollen slightly and pretty. “You’re doing well, Sungie,” he reassures, and Jisung smiles happily. “Move a little faster and you’ll do even better for me, okay?”

Obediently, Jisung speeds up, and Minho gasps out a _good boy,_ before covering his own mouth as he had Jisung’s before. This parallel makes Jisung’s head spin, remembering how good he’d felt when Minho had needed to cover his mouth before. If he’s making Minho feel like _that_ right now, then- Wow. Pride fills Jisung, and he keeps moving his hand fast, thumbing over the spot near the tip that makes Minho moan. Minho tenses, and Jisung looks up at him, resisting the urge to shrink under the intensity of the stare Minho fixes him with. “Should I stop?” he asks, even though it really doesn’t seem like Minho wants him to.

“N- Wait, actually. One second, pull your hand away for me.” Minho replies, smirking despite his dishevelled, panting demeanour as he notices a box of tissues next to Jisung’s bed that hadn’t been there during his last visit to the Han family residence. Jisung had feigned a coughing fit when his mother asked why he’d put them there, and she’d checked him for a temperature because he’d been blushing so hard. Minho pulls a few free, and passes them to Jisung wordlessly— the intent is obvious. While he has no problem dirtying Jisung’s underwear, Minho doesn’t want to deal with the same discomfort on his way home. He seems to think of something else, then, and Jisung gasps when Minho grabs his free hand, covering Minho’s mouth with Minho’s fingers over his, Minho’s lips against his palm. 

_Go on,_ Minho seems to say with his eyes, and Jisung feels a slight nod, too. Minho hums as Jisung’s hand snakes back into his underwear, and when he picks up the pace Jisung trembles at the feeling of Minho’s moans against his skin. When Minho comes, he’s beautiful, and he _feels_ beautiful too, twitching in Jisung’s right hand as he spills into the tissue, moans vibrating against the palm of his left. Jisung probably looks like a mess when he orgasms — he certainly feels like one, but Minho is resplendent, a work of art that Jisung can’t believe he’s been given permission to touch. His mouth hangs a little open in shock as he watches Minho’s eyes regain focus, coming down from his high. “Did I do it right?” Jisung checks.

Minho lets Jisung’s left hand free, and it falls limply to rest in his lap. Even though he’s the one still hard, Jisung feels more boneless than Minho looks right now. “Yes, Sungie,” Minho says, the pink tint to his cheeks the prettiest sight Jisung has ever seen. “You did it just right, sweetheart. Such a good boy for me, aren’t you?”

Jisung whimpers softly at that, and Minho _awws_ in return, ruffling his hair. At Minho’s instruction, Jisung goes and bins the tissue, leaving Minho to do his jeans back up. Neglected, Jisung’s own problem twitches painfully in his slacks. “Minho?” he says, nervous to ask outright even after what he’s just done. “Can you make it go away again, please?”

“How about I show you something new, darling,” Minho offers, and Jisung nods so eagerly that it makes his neck ache a little. Minho giggles at that, _giggles,_ and Jisung’s poor brain flips between endearment and painfully turned on fast enough to make him dizzy. Minho moves from beside him, and picks up the pillow he’d been leant against while Jisung pleasured him. Confused, Jisung takes it from him when offered, nonetheless.

“What am I meant to do with this?...” he asks, confused. Jisung hadn’t been sure what to expect when Minho mentioned ‘something new’, but being passed one of his pillows wasn’t on his radar of expectation. He looks down at it, trying to find meaning in the airplane patterned pillowcase, but comes up blank. 

“So cute,” Minho says, and though it isn’t an answer Jisung doesn’t demand one. Demanding anything from Minho doesn’t tend to be the best route to take. Instead, he focuses his effort into looking cuter, hoping Minho will relent. “You’re gonna use it instead of my hand, this time,” he elaborates, though this only bewilders Jisung all the more.

“What?...” he trails off, blinking in confusion. “How?”

Luckily, Minho seems to enjoy spelling things out for him. He stands up, the sudden extra height difference making Jisung feel even smaller. “Put it on the centre of the bed and kneel in front of it,” he instructs, Jisung hanging off his words and following them at once, blanket falling off his lap. He’s still _really_ confused, but puts his trust in Minho regardless. “Good boy,” Minho praises. “I’ll listen out for footsteps,” he promises then, seeing how Jisung nervously eyes the door, picking up the discarded blanket and draping it around Jisung’s shoulders so it covers him. 

“What now?” Jisung asks, and his voice couldn’t be needier if he tried, each word coming out as a whine. 

“Hold onto the pillow with both hands.” Jisung does. “Sit forward a little more, yes like that, good boy. Now, lean onto it.” Again, Jisung does. It feels a little weird, especially where his crotch now rests against the pillow, but he still doesn’t understand why he’s getting _this_ instead of Minho’s soft touch. “Move your hips forward, darling,” Minho tells him, seemingly amused by Jisung’s complete and utter confusion. 

Jisung, obedient as ever, duly shifts his hips forward, and in doing so unintentionally drags his crotch against the pillow. _“Oh!”_ he gasps out, both a moan and a realisation, and Minho moves closer to cover Jisung’s mouth as he does every time. Like always, the stifling contact makes Jisung even needier, breathing laboured against Minho’s palm. 

“Get it, now?” Minho asks, smile tugging at his pretty lips, tone that delightful shade of condescending. Jisung can’t speak now, so he nods. “Fuck your pillow then, baby boy,” he orders, seeming somewhat impatient. “I want to see you make a mess of yourself for me again, Sungie,” he coos. “Can you do that for me?”

Jisung yearns to be good for him, and nods once more, gasping against Minho’s hand as his hips cant forwards again. He’s already close from making Minho orgasm, which had been the hottest moment in Jisung’s near-nineteen years of living, and this feels _incredible._ It’s not something he’d have ever thought of doing before, though he supposes that statement could summarise everything Minho brings to the table, and it’s definitely something Jisung plans to do again. Maybe tonight, once everyone’s asleep and Jisung’s thoughts drift back to right now, to Minho’s hand over his mouth and telling Jisung to get off against his pillow. Jisung feels that shaky kind of desperate that always takes over when he’s near, and he fucks desperately against the softness, gentle friction that’s still _so_ much when he’s as needy as this. When Jisung’s hips stutter, he pauses to look up at Minho, voicelessly asking for his permission.

“Come for me, Jisungie,” Minho answers his unspoken question. He smiles at Jisung’s complete deference and, continuing that same obedience still further, Jisung ruts down against the pillow _once, twice-_ And he comes in his pants with a muffled whine, grinding down helplessly to work himself through it to the sound of Minho’s soft praises. 

_“Minho,”_ Jisung groans once his mouth is free, saying nothing more as he pants, brain still spinning, thoughts fuzzy in the aftermath.

“You’re adorable,” Minho replies, looking thoughtful. “You know, maybe I’ll let you fuck me some day, if you earn it.”

Jisung tilts his head, confused. His dick twitches pitifully in his pants, though he isn’t quite sure what Minho means. “How?”

_How could he possibly do that? Where would he put it?_

“That’s a lesson for another day, baby boy,” Minho denies him, even as Jisung pouts. Downstairs, plates rattle, and there’s the _clink_ of cutlery being set out. “Clean yourself up,” Minho tells him, checking up and down his own clothing for anything he himself needs to sort. Finding nothing, he heads over to Jisung’s door. “I’ll distract them for a few minutes— it’s dinner time, by the sound of it.”

And so Jisung dutifully changes his underwear to the faint sound of Minho downstairs, charming Jisung’s parents with some joke or another. His parents _love_ Minho, ironically. Jisung doubts they would for long if they knew exactly what he’s teaching their son.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading!!! this series is a fun lil side project (but pls don't hound me to update it cause it isn't my main focus <333)
> 
> comments + kudos r welcome as always (pretty pls)
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/scbaes)
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/minbinnie)
> 
> -V xoxo
> 
> <3


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